


Negotiated Holidays

by fresne



Category: Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Misses Clause Challenge, Post Novel, Self Voyeurism, Vaginal Sex, Yuletide 2014, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear reader, after some fifteen years of marriage, Jane went on a holiday with her Edward. In which there was not much excitement, except of a personal nature. Oh, and she fell in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiated Holidays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbichicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbichicken/gifts).



> The following may be considered as inspiration for my work and inspiration for my dialogue, possibly even quotes because apt quotes are cool:  
> Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

Her Edward campaigned relentlessly for her agreement to his latest proposition. She said, "No," and that should have been the end of it. 

He protested, "But you haven't seen the glories of the Continent."

She took his dear stump of a hand in both of hers and placed a kiss at the withered end. "But I don't want to see them if you cannot also."

"My Janet," he pressed a kiss to her neck. "I have seen them. I travelled for twenty debauched years across the wonders of Europe. That is why I want to see them again through your eyes."

"I have no particular desire to see the sights in which you exercised your much referenced debauchery." However, she did not protest when he pulled her back to nestle between the solid support of his legs. He had rather unfairly chosen to situate this discussion when she was dressed for bed. Her hair was loose. She was wearing nothing but a nightgown and he was wearing nothing. 

He loved her with the familiarity of long practice, drawing up the hem of her gown with no protests on her part, and sitting on the bed pulled her into his lap. She knew that he could only see a milky haze of their reflection in the mirror that sat across the room from their bed. That by the firelight and the light of the single oil lamp still lit next to their bed, even she could only see an impression of shapes. The white shape of her body as he revealed it by pulling off her nightgown. Her breasts no longer quite so young or virginal, now that they'd fed three lovely children that he moved his remaining hand over. She breathed in deeply, knowing that his manhood was already sheathed in a French envelope, now that they'd decided that three children was enough. He teased her with it against her back, or she teased him. They exchanged the role so frequently, it was not always possible to be sure. But as she sank upon him, watching the image of herself in the mirror kneeling in his lap, while he caressed her breasts with his remaining hand, she knew that she'd say yes. Because he said, "Please Janet, you've seen so little of the world, and I so much. Please, bring us to a more equal footing."

"A more equal footing than this," she said, pressing down and arching her back slightly. Watching herself watch them. She'd long ago lost guilt over it, knowing that he knew she did so, and knowing in that moment that this was why he'd positioned them that way. So, she punished him by pleasing him. By lying in his arms afterwards and being held. By saying, "But what about our children," which was tantamount to yes.

He smiled against her forehead and kissed her. "I've already made arrangements for them to stay with their cousins. They'll play all summer long and hardly miss us."

She slapped him across the chest for that. "Edward Fairfax Rochester. You made arrangements for our children without consulting me. What kind of equal footing is that?"

He kissed her and drew teasing finger between her legs. "Janet Eyre Rochester. I was trying to get whatever advantage I could before presenting my campaign to so practiced a general. Well, Jane," he kissed her again, "shall we go?"

She sighed and kissed him back. "Yes, my Hades, but don't blame me if I fall for some Apollo and quite leave you in Paris." 

He snorted and gathered her close. She pulled their bedclothes over them.

Paris did not impress her. It was much like London, only French, and far more medieval. Edward pulled her closer to him in their seat in the Opera house. "Perhaps, its highlights are lost on you." She pressed her head to his shoulder and urged that they leave before the city again erupted in some revolution as Paris was wont to do.

The French countryside with its wide rolling vineyards in the golden light and pale castles like something out of a story was breath taking. Even more pleasant was the way the people chuckled over them as if it was an odd thing to see two people these long fifteen years married and still so in love.

When they made it to Rome, she thought she might have died. She looked around the Sistine Chapel and said, "They always describe the ceiling. Why did no one say that the entire place is made of art?" 

Edward laughed. He said, "Because unless you saw it, you'd not believe it." She was forced, grudgingly to agree that it was true. Still she mockingly held a grudge in their room overlooking the forum, and enjoyed his way of coaxing her out of it.

She fell in love with Florence. She sat sipping wine and eating bread within view of the Duomo and felt golden peace sink in. Edward laughed. "You warned me to beware a golden haired, Apollo. You didn't tell me it would be a city."

She'd been in too much love argue. He took advantage and bought her dresses that she did not need when she could not resist. He paraded her through the plazas and when she'd strolled her fill, took her to Venice.

When she went into the Basilica in Venice, she thought she heard the voice of God in the song of mass and the coiling incense in the room's riot of gold." Less glorious were the Austrians and Venetians competing with carousing and music in San Marco square. She preferred it when they made their away to gaze on the art left in Venice, or even in the summer's stinking heat, at the sunset reflecting on the canals.

"Well, my pale little elf, my mustard seed, shall we return in February for Carnival." Edward whispered into her hair.

"Only if we bring the children," she said virtuously.

"If we must," he said, which was a bluff for some other concession, as she knew he missed them as much as she.

"We must," she said firmly.

"Although," he made his move, "next summer would be a lovely time to see Saint Petersburg in the midnight sun."

She did not disagree, which was her own concession.

**Author's Note:**

> If after reading my fiction here, you would like to read more about me and my writing check out my profile.


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